The Braids of Death
by Leishe
Summary: [RyoSaku] Fate screws up, and wants Ryoma dead. Death enters Sakuno's consciousness, and chaos ensues.
1. Ryoma's First Last Day

The Braids of Death

Chapter One

**Ryoma's First Last Day**

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Once upon a time, it was a normal day, somewhere in the suburban jungles of Japan. (Then again, like all things, the state of normalcy is quite temporary.)

It was morning, around seven to be exact. Students everywhere were waking up drowsily from their soft cushioned beds, futons, or from beer-stained couches, or perhaps outside someone's doorstep from the wild party last night (which, as stated by the parents, they were _not _allowed to attend). It was Monday, a day hated by most, and loved by very very very few. Nevertheless, it was a nice Monday, with the sun shining and the birds warbling…that sort of thing—

"Oi, shounen! Shounen!"

A scarily excited voice rang through the Echizen household, coupled with some undignified running up the staircase. Nanjiroh was a grown man, and if his grandmother were still alive, she would surely avert her eyes in embarrassment and disown him. Surely.

The man's tall shadow loomed over the only door in the house which had a yellow 'Keep Out' sticker stuck to it. With little deliberation beforehand, he swept the door open, revealing a small, well-kept bedroom, whose occupant was currently snoozing within the mountain of comforters and blankets that lay around him.

"Wake up time!" With a smile on his face, the tennis samurai whipped everything off the bed, sending bits of dust into the air, as well as an extremely irritated fifteen year old boy flying to the floor. An uncomfortable thud resounded.

"Ughhh…"

Usually, the first thing you see in the morning upon emerging from sleep is NOT the carpet. Then again, the word 'usually' never really applied to any individual directly related to Nanjiroh. Echizen Ryoma, just woken up, pulled himself off the floor in the hopes that, if possible, his annoyingly overzealous father would say nothing and simply walk out of his bedroom, leaving him, the piteously harassed son, alone to contemplate his weary fate.

"Oi, oi." Nanjiroh put his hands on his hips. "Wake up. Your mother says so, and I need to ring that bell. Hurry!" He poked the back of Ryoma's head.

"Grumblegrumble.."

"Great. See ya at breakfast. The wind of opportunity blows towards the prospect of newfound love!"

After a few erratic stomps, the door slammed shut a few moments later, and on the floor, Ryoma rubbed his head, blinking. With a quiet 'meow' and even quieter footsteps, his pet cat Karupin, and possibly, the only friend he had in this house, padded to the young man's side, raised a paw and began playing with his master's hair.

"…"

Ryoma stood up, leaving the feline to look up at him with its giant yellow eyes and pretend to be adorable. The tennis prodigy glared at the housepet dispassionately. After staring at his bed for a few minutes, a loud, low rumble from the depths of his stomach signaled that it was time to begin the ominous descent down to breakfast. And he did.

Echizen Ryoma was not himself on this lovely Monday morning. He was dazed and he was tired, and, despite his hopes, Nanjiroh had an inkling that his son's unusual behavior had nothing to do with the wild party last night. (Not that he allowed Ryoma to attend…the mother would kill him, of course…tsk. He needed more social exposure, that boy. After all, how was he going to meet any nice girls by going straight home after tennis practice? Teenagers these days…_But then_, he thought, _there's always the old hag's granddaughter…_)

Ryoma's father pushed a plate of waffles in front of him. The golden-brown pieces of food were _caked _in honey. The boy eyed the plate warily. His mother wasn't there, and neither was Nanako-chan. They probably went to the market or something, leaving him with this-_this­—_excuse for a father. Nanjiroh opened one of his magazines and cocked an eye at his son.

"Here. Food. Eat." It was like talking to a rock.

Without much protest, Ryoma grabbed a fork, speared one waffle, and stuffed it into his mouth, honey and all. Nanjiroh blinked, and Karupin wound himself around one of the legs of the boy's chair, mewing worriedly. Ryoma chewed, reflecting on the fact that the waffles tasted a little bit burnt, and that his father had probably put something inappropriate into the mix. He swallowed, drained a glass of milk, stood up, and retreated the way he came.

Without a sarcastic comment about the food. Without asking about his mother. Without dissing Nanjiroh's immature magazine hobby.

Both the cat and the man stared after him with wide eyes. They looked at each other, then at the spot where Ryoma had been. Nanjiroh shrugged after a while, and went back to his reading.

"It's none of my business," he quipped, flipping a page. "Unless it has something to do with a girl, of course."

"Meow," agreed Karupin.

**.0o0.**

It was noontime, but in another dimension, the day was already darkening. Sitting in front of a laptop atop an ancient wooden table, the Grim Reaper blinked at the screen in disbelief. The blueish light glowed eerily, casting dim shadows on the bony being's face. Clicking ferociously, Death ran through the email he'd received from Fate once more.

_To- Grimmie_

_From- Fate the Great_

_Elinor Finn_

_Lawrence Gibbons_

_Ryoma Echizen_

_Please take care of them before midnight. Thank you. –Fate_

Somewhere in the folds of Death's black robes, a set of carpals twitched involuntarily. Was he seeing things, or did the legendary Fate just commit a fatal (cough) error? The Grim Reaper knew that the first name on the list was an old lady with brain cancer who was due to pass into the afterlife at any second. The other one was a janitor-turned-formula one racer, and would take a deadly spin off the track. But the last one…

_Echizen, _muttered Death. From what he remembered, the last name on the list was a boy, still, who, as of now, wasn't scheduled to do anything remotely threatening to his health. And he was an athlete, for goodness' sake. Even Fate knew how _annoying _getting an athlete to part with his soul was.

A bony finger double-clicked, and the screen went blank. Death shook his head. It was very unlikely that Fate was mistaken, of course, since an error like that could seriously alter reality in very unpleasant ways. Standing up from his chair, the Reaper reached for his scythe inside the coat closet.

_Let's do this_ he muttered, snapping his fingers. Instantly, a door-shaped patch of white appeared before him, and without another word, Death stepped out.

**.0o0.**

Never in her entire life had Sakuno seen so many strange things happen in one single day. First, it was during lunchtime. As the routine went, she ate outside with Tomoka, under the green airy trees, under the lovely blue sky. They talked to each other about random things that school girls usually speak of, and then when the bell rang, they would depart for class. But this time…it was rather…different.

The bento lunch her mother had made was delicious. Sakuno sighed as she picked a delectable-looking slice of sashimi from her box, putting it into her mouth. If only she could cook like okasan, then maybe Ryoma-kun would actually eat the lunch she made. Tomoka was chattering about something indulgently while going through her own food container, waving her chopsticks in the air.

"Those Hello Kitty slippers were sooooo cute, so I just _had _to get them. Tousan said it was a waste of money, but sometimes a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do, ne Sakuno-chan?"

A familiar figure wandered out of the school and into their vicinity, and Sakuno stopped eating. She watched curiously with largish amber eyes, as the white cap bobbed across the field. Ryoma-kun, as usual. He had his bag in hand and was going to eat lunch in that tree he always ate in. The one nearest the tennis courts.

Sakuno watched as the boy opened his lunch, ate it, and climbed into the tree to nap. As he settled onto one of the large branches, two men exited the school building the same way Ryoma came. They wore bright yellow hardhats, clear plastic goggles, and gloves. One man carried what looked like a large chainsaw.

"…foremen?" she murmured, watching curiously.

"Sakuno-chan, are you going to eat your lunch or stare at Ryoma-kun until the bell rings?" Tomoka cut in, smirking.

The girl's cheeks pinked, as she protested and apologized at the same time, stuttering. "A-ah, gomen…I was just—"

A loud, bark-crunching noise interrupted her, combined with the mechanical roar of an engine, and both girls' heads whirled towards the sound. The two men that Sakuno had been observing were sawing through the middle of Ryoma's tree. The braided girl's eyes widened in horror.

"T-Tomo-chan…That's Ryoma-kun's tree they're cutting down!"

_This is easier than I thought,_ mused Death, leaning unseen against the wall.

Tomoka stared at Sakuno, then at the men, the tree, and the throttled sleeper nestled in its branches. Her mouth was wide open, speechless for once. Sakuno got up, dashing over to where the men were. The saw spewed bits of wood and sawdust that ricocheted across the field, making it dangerous to approach the tree. Waving her arms in the air, the girl yelled at the men frantically.

"Excuse me!" she shouted, reddening from the effort.

There was no reply from either of the men, and they continued driving the saw through the trunk.

"Excuse me, sir!" she tried again, panicking. The noise was probably drowning her voice. Sakuno's mind raced. What could she do? The girl looked back to Tomoka, who was still blinking and gaping. She would be of no sue. Sakuno sighed and took one shoe off, flinging it the head of the man with the chainsaw.

**THWACK!**

Bull's-eye. Who said she couldn't hit things with accuracy? The noise stopped, and both men turned to look at Sakuno, irritated. They were big and sweaty, and, judging by the frowns on their faces, not very happy.

"What did you do that for?" one demanded, wiping his forehead on his sleeve.

Sakuno blushed. Inappropriate, she knew, but she couldn't help it. "T-there's someone in the tree!" she blurted out, pointing towards Ryoma, who was, by now, wide awake and looking somewhat shaken. He jumped out of the tree, glad to be back on land.

The man blinked, glanced at the boy, and blinked again, eyes widening.

"Oh. I guess I didn't see him."

Looking at Sakuno, he nodded. "Well, you're a lifesaver…I guess I owe you an apology."

The girl shook her head furiously. "No, it's fine."

The man smiled, spared the boy in the tree a glance, and then motioned for him to get the hell away so they could continue their work. Obligingly, Ryoma ambled over, curious as to what was going on.

"What is it?"

One of the foremen grumbled. "You've got some nerve. Sleeping in our tree."

"I always sleep in that tree," he replied, shrugging.

"Well, thanks to this young lady here, we weren't able to take that tree and saw you into pieces, were we?"

Ryoma blinked and looked at the girl standing beside the man. Wait, said his brain, processing. Brown hair, eyes, and ridiculously long braids. _Ryuzaki-sensei's granddaughter._ A look of realization and gratitude dawned on his usually expressionless face, and Ryoma smiled a little.

"Thank you."

Sakuno blushed. "Y-you're welcome."

If he had eyelids, Death would have blinked in disbelief. He stared at Sakuno. For a while. _That brat…she ruined it! My plan! _Eye-sockets turned to the boy he was supposed to get rid of, and the Grim Reaper set his jaw. _I'll get you yet, boy._

**.0o0.**

Unfortunately, the tree incident was only the beginning of Ryoma's 'misfortune', a.k.a. Death's attempts to kill him. The second attempt had been spiking his water with the deadliest sample of Inui juice from the data keeper's laboratory. It was the color of rust, and the reaper was certain that just enough of the substance was enough to knock the boy's soul out of his body.

_Mwahahaha…let's he if he'll be able to survive THIS. _Orange-brown liquid trickled sinisterly into the white plastic container labeled ECHIZEN, and the cap twisted into place with a squeak of morbid finality.

It would have worked, of course, on any other human being aside from Echizen Ryoma and Fuji Syusuke. This was mostly due to the fact that Ryoma had an extremely annoying ability to avoid nearly everything Death threw at him (some of the credit went to Sakuno, of course,) and Fuji, simply because he was himself.

As it went, a very thirsty Kikumaru Eiji mistook Ryoma's water bottle for his own, gulping the liquid down with zeal, and draining it in seconds. A white-capped head snapped up in alarm.

"Kikumari-senpai, that's my—"

"**_AGH! THE PAAAAIIN!"_**

The results were not pretty, and the red-haired regular was hauled to the hospital by Momoshiro and Takamura, convulsing violently. Oishi followed behind with growing concern.

Upon fierce interrogation by Captain Tezuka, a baffled Inui just stared at the bottle Kikumaru had drunken from, at a loss for words.

_Dammit,_ Death cursed.

A chill ran down Ryoma's spine.

**.0o0.**

The sky was pink and orange and violet, as a burning disc of fiery gold began yet another descent at the end of the day. A battered, bruised, and trampled-on young man walked home, lugging his tennis bag behind him. One broken racket, one nearly-broken rib, and a black eye. Life just wasn't right. Muttering darkly to himself, the tennis prince kicked at the sidewalk absently.

Footsteps came up from behind him, along with the rustle of skirts and the swishing of hair.

"Ryoma-kun!"

_Oh great. It's her._

"Hm?" he replied, keeping his pace. A pair of braids swung by, narrowly missing his face, and slightly panting, Sakuno appeared beside him. The boy spared her a glance. She had been running, that much was obvious. The lights of sunset cast an ethereal glow against her face, and he could see the sun reflected in her eyes.

"Are you okay?" She was worried.

_No, _he thought, _Judging by what happened today, I am definitely NOT okay._ Instead, he nodded, trying to be as reassuring as he could. Or she would probably think him a weakling. _But what did it matter, anyway? _Sakuno was just…Sakuno.

A relieved expression crossed her face, and Ryoma felt his insides give a sickening lurch. It was probably because of that nearly-broken rib, he told himself. After all, being trampled in the hallway by hundreds of females was never healthy for anyone. Absently, he wondered how Tezuka-senpai dealt with it.

"Okay then, Ryoma-kun, I'll see you tomorrow!" cheerily this time, Sakuno waved at him. He nodded, and they parted ways. Her braids flew past. _Her hair's still too long, _Ryoma observed, watching her as she left. A few moments later, he was still watching, until he blinked, shook his head, and muttered something like "wobbly hips" to himself, before continuing the journey home.

Death hovered in the air, watching the boy thoughtfully. Something in his skull went _snap_, and quite suddenly, the Grim Reaper knew exactly what to do. But it would have to wait until tomorrow, of course. Fate never did like a death that wasn't entertaining. And what a death Echizen's would be.

_The braids of Death, _mused the Grim Reaper, turning to stare at the young woman who walked in the opposite direction. _I like it. _He looked back at the boy. Beautiful. Just beautiful.

_Hee hee_ laughed Death. It sounded like the screech of claws ripping down a blackboard. Ryoma shivered involuntarily, and increased his pace by just a little. It was time he got home.

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Notes: Hi there, this is a first try at RyoSaku. ;) Hope you like it. Confused? Disturbed? Seeking enlightenment? Please review. Credit goes to Terry Pratchett for the concept of Death and to the PoT manga-ka (name forgotten! Gasp! So sorry!) whose characters are not mine. Sankyuu!

**EDIT**: 05.29.06 Accidentally posted the draft. It has now been replaced. So sorry. :)


	2. Death vs Ryoma : 15, love

The Braids of Death

Chapter Two

**Death vs. Echizen, 15-love**

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It was morning. Early lights. Dim windows, tall curtains, drawn. Vague silhouettes outlined in the quiet room, while shallow breathing combined with the rising and falling of the chest emanated from the bed. Serenity prevails, but not for long.

_Beeeeep. Beeeeep. Beeeep._

"Garrrgh."

The alarm clock watched warily as the hand crept out from under the covers. The alarm clock shuddered. If there was one thing in the world that it feared, it was _the hand._ The appendage groped around, feeling the table. Fingers combed the surface, unstopping until the clock was safe in its clutches. 'Noo…' whined the alarm clock, 'Save meee…' The rustling of bedsheets followed, along with a meow of protest. Something clicked, and the digital wails were silenced.

More rustling followed.

"Miaaaaaaw." _Good morning._

Ryoma petted the cat affectionately, pausing to yawn and stretch. Everything, at that moment, was made of soft cloth and pillows and flannel fish pajamas. Rubbing his eyes, the boy got off the bed. The air felt warm and cold at the same time, and a patch of sun peeked from behind a swath of clouds. The rest of the day was waiting to be born. Maybe it would be better. It was Tuesday, after all. And Tuesdays were never nearly as horrible as Mondays.

He stretched some more, working the sleep out of his joints. Soon, feet still tingling with the prospect of unfinished dreams slid into a pair of soft white slippers. It was time to get dressed. And then, maybe, some breakfast. Padding through the carpet, Ryoma touched the cold metal knob, opened the door, and shut it.

Quite suddenly, a sharp hiss sliced the air.

"Rhsssss!" screamed Karupin. The creature scrabbled violently at the floor, eyes wide and panicked, and fur standing up.

Startled, Ryoma turned to see what had disturbed Karupin. And then he saw the cat's tail, stuck in the door. Uh-oh. He opened it immediately, and the pet bounded away, glaring at his master with angry green eyes. It disappeared behind a bookshelf, leaving nothing but a patch of hair stuck to the doorframe.

"Sorry," said Ryoma, feeling a bit guilty.

"Ryoma-san! Breakfast!"

His cousin's voice floated up the stairs, along with the delicious smell of a Japanese breakfast. The young man sniffed eagerly, his mouth watering slightly. For a moment, the cat incident was forgotten, and Ryoma climbed down the stairs, anticipating a wonderful day.

The raven-haired young woman smiled that cheery smile of hers, as she set a cup of steaming tea in front of her little cousin.

"Here, try this Ryoma-san. It's the special herbal tea I got at the organic market yesterday. Auntie liked it very much. I haven't gotten Uncle around to trying it, though."

The aromatic steam lifted into the air, clearing the boy's nose. It smelled like jasmine and rose and chamomile. He breathed in deeply. And strawberries, too. Somehow, the pinkness of the strawberries and the scent of the tea reminded him of something…someone. But he couldn't put a finger on who, exactly. Shrugging, Ryoma took the small porcelain cup in both hands and drank.

Nanako smiled a pitying smile.

"GAH! Hot! Hot!"

Barely had the liquid touched his mouth, when the young man dropped the cup, nursing a burnt tongue. He stuck it out of his mouth, fanning at it desperately with his hands. The female cousin sighed and folded her hands before tucking a loose strand of hair behind her left ear.

"Well I suppose I should have warned you that it scalding hot." She smiled again, this time, remorsefully. "Gomen, Ryoma-san."

Still reeling from the burn, the boy glowered, picking up his chopsticks. He plucked a bit of rice from the bowl and tried to eat it, wincing at the pain. Inwardly, he banged his head on imaginary walls. Of all the stupid things to happen in the morning. Ryoma ground his teeth. He was beginning to hate Tuesdays as well.

Soon, Momoshiro's yell echoed over the walls.

"ECHIZEN!"

Grateful for the Momo intervention, the young man stood from the table, grabbing his bag. He headed for the door, snatching his cap along the way, and stuffing it into the tennis satchel. The usual comment was tossed to Nanako, as always.

"I'm going now."

The door slid open, and the boy stepped out. He stopped midway, turning to his cousin. A worried look crossed his face.

"Please make sure Karupin eats."

Nanako nodded, ever smiling. "Of course."

The door shut, and the muffled sound of running footsteps followed. The prince had made his exit.

"Oi, Echizen!" The junior's voice was loud enough to be heard inside the temple, even when muffled. Ryoma said something, and a bit of conversation followed. After that, the screech of hard-pressed bike wheels against asphalt faded into the background noise, and Nanako busied herself with gathering the used dishes.

At that moment, Nanjiroh entered the dining area with a little swagger. The cat followed sullenly at his heels, its tail hanging in between its hindlegs.

"Did my idiot son leave already?" asked the man, seating himself at the table and opening a newspaper. The young woman nodded. She picked up another porcelain cup, and gently, poured a bit of green liquid into it.

"Care for some tea, uncle?"

**.0o0.**

Death was enjoying this more than he cared to show. Not that he could show any emotion, anyway. He _liked _seeing those funny little humans run around screaming when their lives were in shambles. He especially liked the part when they were on the verge of killing themselves, giving those awkwardly long goodbye speeches and all that. Hilarious.

_It is only a matter of time before Echizen realizes that there is no escaping me._

A flapping of black cloth circled the reaper, who floated two inches above the ground. It didn't make any difference, anyway. Only two kinds of creatures could see Death: magicians and cats. Very few of the former existed anymore, and as for the latter, well, people rarely paid attention to felines anyway. Besides, most of the cats that had seen Death never really reacted. He supposed it was because they knew he wasn't after them. The Death of Cats was another story.

The pounding noise of footsteps broke the silence, and a bicycle materialized in the distance.

"Race you there, Echizen!"

"Momo-senpai, you cheat!"

A burst of loud, clanging laughter followed, and the bicycle surged forward, overtaking the younger boy. Death smirked, and lifted a finger.

**.0o0.**

"You two are like cockroaches! Especially you, Echizen!"

Ryoma, his right arm in a sling, looked up at his homeroom teacher with his usual apathetic expression. And then he smirked. _Cockroach._ A chuckle struggled to escape his throat, but the boy clamped it down with fervor. Next to him, Momoshiro rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.

"We're really sorry Harada-sensei…"

"Sorry doesn't cut it, Momoshiro!" snapped the teacher, glasses glinting in the fluorescent light. Something about the man vaguely reminded them of Inui. Aside from being Ryoma's homeroom teacher, he also happened to be the school disciplinarian. All that was left was the vegetable juice.

"It's a good thing the owner of the car you both crashed into offered to pay the hospital expenses. As for your bike repairs, Momo, I think that's for you to handle. I am surprised, though, to find you unscathed and Echizen here nursing a broken arm!"

"It isn't broken, only bruised." Said Ryoma.

Harada-sensei shot the boy an exasperated look. He folded his arms, staring the two boys down with his famous Leaden Gaze. Outside, an out-of-season cricket chirped.

"In any case, you two were late for class this morning. A report of this will be sent to the headmaster, as well as your tennis coach."

Both boys froze. _Ryuzaki-sensei?_ Oh no. Nonononono…

**.0o0.**

Squeak. PAK. Squeak. PAK. Pant. PAK. PAK. PAK. PAK. **KABLAM.**

"Nya," panted Eiji, clutching at his collar, "That was evil, Fuji-kun!"

The regular of perpetual smiles _smiled_ at the redheaded player. "You have to work on your speed, Kikumaru-kun. Maybe Inui has something that will help." The sentence hung in the air like wet laundry put out to dry.

Fuji proceeded to approach the sidelines where the bespectacled Inui waited with a cup of thick violet-grey liquid on hand. The manager grinned, and Kikumaru turned a faint shade of green.

"Next!" Barked Tezuka. "Doubles! Oishi, Kawamura, Kaidoh and Momoshiro!"

Nodding, the four players stood from their respective lounging spots, making their way to the court. Kaidoh shot Momo a predatory glare, while Kawamura gibbered a little nervously. Oishi just smiled, striding calmly to one side of the playing area. Nothing boosted his supportive spirit like a good, fun doubles match where the other team got to be mercilessly clobbered by his famous Moon Volley. Kaidoh cast the vice president a withering look, hissing.

"Well, this sucks."

Ryoma flipped a page from a book he was reading, entitled 'Tennis During the Early Victorian Era', by a certain Yamazaki. It was a dull read, filled with what the young man deemed as lies in print.

_Tennis was invented when an apple fell from a tree. Some people were having a picnic under the tree, and they brought a frying pan. The apple bounced off the frying pan and hit someone. Thus, tennis was invented. Mysteriously enough, the date of physicist Isaac Newton's discovery of gravity coincides with the invention of tennis. What a coincidence._

He sighed, flipping a few more pages and watching the dust fly up in concentrated puffs.

The library was a high-walled place, fitting the usual descriptions perfectly. Not only was it dusty, eerily quiet and dim, but it had the accompanying Old Nasty Librarian (c) as well. She was a woman whose beginnings date back to the Triassic period, and quite possibly, living proof that dinosaurs once existed.

Her current occupation was hissing and breathing down Ryoma's neck. It was not a pleasant feeling.

"_Kswaaa_. Serves you right, little boy. Kswaaaaa. Being late for schooling, why, even if those little bonies of yours broke, kswaa, you should have earlied it to classing. Kswaaa."

_Those hisses of hers have a distinct primordial quality to them_, thought Ryoma. He increased the speed of his page-flipping, hoping it would all be over. He glanced at the clock. Thirty minutes before training ended. And Momoshiro-senpai got away without punishment, that bastard.

Death was uncomfortable around the librarian. Something told him that he had seen her a few times before, and something else told him that she would elude him for the next few centuries or so. The Grim Reaper flexed his tibiae, tossing the scythe from hand to hand. He looked at the clock. It would almost be time for the boy to exit. Death tried to grin.

**.0o0.**

"Hoi, Ochibi-chan!" Eiji flashed him a considerably wilted grin. The hyperactive senior was noticeably green around the edges, and Ryoma thought he knew why. Inui-senpai had been working on that hellish concoction for a week, and was just _dying_ to record its effects on his guinea pigs—I mean, tennis club. The boy shuddered, not wanting to imagine the taste.

Momoshiro jogged up, sweating. Ryoma glared.

"Hey, don't give me that. It isn't my fault we crashed into that stupid car!"

"'Race you there, Echizen!'" Mimicked Ryoma, flailing his hands in the air, "'Oh no! It's a car! AGGGH!'"

"Okay, okay, enough! I get it, brat."

The collective snickering of Eiji, Kaidoh, Kawamura and Oishi came up behind him. Momoshiro turned around, extremely annoyed.

"It's a good thing Momo wasn't injured." Broke in Fuji, before the junior could disembody the rest of the team. "Although you could have avoided the crash, right, Ryoma-kun?" He turned to the sophomore with a serious expression, but eyes remaining closed.

The fifteen-year-old looked down at his feet, silent.

"I think Ochibi-chan has been having bad luck recently, nya." quipped Eiji. Several of them nodded in agreement, and Oishi looked thoughtful.

"Did you stick your chopsticks into your rice bowl?"

"Yada."

"Did you use a needle and thread before leaving your house?"

A puzzled look. "Yada."

"Maybe it's his Yaku-doshi." (1)

"No, Yaku-doshi is at 25. He's 15!"

"…maybe it comes ten years early?"

"Don't be stupid, Kikumaru."

"Nya, that was mean, Kaidoh-kun!"

"Echizen, did you whistle in the evening?" Tezuka approached the circle of regulars. Silence settled on the rest of the team when he looked at the boy pointedly.

"…"

"Well, did you?" pressed Momoshiro.

A single nod. A gasp escaped from the rest of the team.

Ryoma looked up. "Buchou, what does it mean if I whistle in the evening?"

Tezuka glanced at the sky, letting the light breeze ruffle his hair ominously. His glasses gleamed in slow motion, and hawklike eyes settled on the youngest regular.

"It is the common superstition in Japan, that if you whistle in the evening…" he trailed off, and the rest of the young men strained their ears for his next word…

"…Snakes will appear."

"TSSSS!"

Everyone looked at Kaidoh, who had hissed rather violently. Kaidoh glared. Ryoma blinked, and Momoshiro unwisely let out a loud guffaw. Mamushii let out a low growl before launching himself at his classmate, and the rest, as they say, is history.

Ryoma looked up at Tezuka with half-lidded eyes. "Anou, I don't think that's the case."

The senior cast him a foreboding look. "Then be prepared."

"Nya," said Eiji (who else?) "Ochibi-chan doesn't get into trouble when Ryuzaki-san is with him."

Everyone looked up in interest.

"You mean the old hag?"

Eiji shook his head. "No, I mean Sakuno-chan. The pretty one." He put his hand just a little above his shoulder, indicating her height.

"Ohhh…that's right. _Sakuno-chan_," grinned Momo, poking Ryoma's shoulder. "She was the one who saved your skin the other day, right? From the tree?"

The young man's eyes widened. And then he folded his arms, going back to his usual blank expression. "Leave Ryuzaki out of this."

Fuji smiled broadly. "Being protective, Echizen-kun?" It was an unusual remark, but it encouraged the rest of the team.

Ryoma's eyes narrowed. "That is a stupid question, Fuji-senpai."

"It is because we all know the answer." Stated Kaidoh, folding his arms and leaning against a tree.

"Maybe your bad luck will go away when you ask Sakuno-chan out on a date!" Eiji's eyes were shining. "She, your beautiful Angel of Light, to chase away the darkness in your painful, sorrowful, bad-luck-filled life."

The boy fought the urge to roll his eyes. Instead he turned to walk away from his overly enthusiastic senpais. It was lunchtime, and his stomach growled. Instead of walking to the tree that wasn't there anymore, Ryoma decided to give the school cafeteria a try.

**.0o0.**

"Here you go."

He eyed the tray before him with visible distaste. It looked like the remains of an obscure species of squid that Kaidoh-senpai had beaten up a lot. There was also this runny crimson substance that smelled faintly of day-old bread. Ryoma wrinkled his nose.

_No_, thought Death. _The food isn't poisonous enough to kill him._ The reaper sighed, and looked around the crowded cafeteria. Then he saw her. Two blue flames came to life inside his eye sockets. There she was, eating with that irritating, loud-mouthed girl. And not under a tree, this time. He would observe her for the time being, maybe send the boy a few mishaps along the way, and see what would happen.

Tomoka sniffed the air.

"Sakuno-chan, do you smell anything funny?"

The braided girl looked at her friend in puzzlement, and then took a sniff of her own. "No, not really. Why?"

The other girl shook her head. "Nothing. For a moment there, I thought it smelled like my grandfather's funeral."

Death hurried away.

**.0o0.**

The halls were eerie with silence, and the air reeked of tragic opportunity. It was the end of the day, and final classes were in session. Eager students awaiting dismissal time squirmed in their seats, glancing at the clock five or six instances in three minutes. Incidentally, Echizen Ryoma was not one of them.

"Okay. Who can tell me coordinates for sine 225? Anyone?" The teacher looked across the classroom of saturated adolescents. "…anyone?"

Ryoma pressed his eyes shut, closing the book. The answer was -0.707. He raised his hand, and the teacher nearly collapsed in relief.

"Good. Echizen!"

**RRRRRRRING!**

Books and paper flew into the air, as grateful students arranged their things as quickly as possible. A few crashes were heard from Horio's part of the classroom when he accidentally stepped on someone's English test paper. The boy sat back down and fixed his own school things. Stuffing it into his tennis bag, Ryoma exited the room discreetly.

But not discreetly enough.

"MARRY ME RYOMA-SAMAAAAAAA!"

_What the hell? _

He blinked. Twice. About thrice the entire female population of Seigaku was waiting for him outside. And they were screaming. And Ryoma knew what that meant. He pushed past them roughly, escaping as quickly as possible. From all sides he was nettled with shrieks and screams of "He's HERE! HE'S HEEERE!" A few fainted, and some thrust pink pieces of paper at him, some in Hello Kitty envelopes.

Ryoma looked around helplessly for a familiar face. Any familiar face. He froze. _Oh no._They were beginning to do that stampede-thing that they did so well…

"Ryoma-kun!"

The voice was not much louder than the fangirl shrieks, but it was enough. Relief washed over the boy as he realized that it belonged to Ryuzaki. _At least she won't grab me and thrust letters at me and everything, right? Right?_

"Ryuzaki!" he called, searching for her face in the sea of hysterical females. He looked left and right, until a familiar pair of amber eyes surfaced. "Here!"

Death turned his head sharply. _It's her. _

"THERE HE GOES! GIRLS! DON'T LET HIM GET AWAY!"

A collective roar from the massive crowd shook the roof of Seigaku. Ryoma's eyes widened in horror as they surged towards him as one mighty tidal wave, screaming his name over and over and over again…

Someone grabbed his left hand.

"In here!"

He ran past doors and cubicles and past the laboratory. The route was dizzying. Behind, the rapid, stomping footsteps of crazed females drilled into the concrete floors, growing louder with every second. The grip on his hand tightened, and Ryoma suddenly found himself being shoved quite violently into a dark room.

Ryuzaki was still gripping his hand. She was panting. He felt he had to say something.

"Thank Y—"

"Echizen-kun? Ryuzaki-san?"

Both sophomores turned around to see Fuji and the photography club staring at them with curiosity. They were inside the darkroom, where pictures taken with analogue cameras were developed. The lights had flipped on, since no photos were being developed at that time.

"Aa." Said the boy, unsure of what else to say.

"Ne, what's this? Echizen-san has a girlfriend?" commented one of the club members, eyeing Sakuno's hand in Ryoma's.

The girl blushed and protested, as she always did. "N-no! I just thought Ryoma-kun would be safer in here!"

The youngest regular nodded, letting go of her hand. The moment he did, the warmth had gone. He turned to Fuji in his usual businesslike manner.

"Fuji-senpai, what are you doing here?" It was time to change the subject.

"I'm sitting in," smiled Fuji. "Mitarashi-san here noticed my hobby and invited me to come." The president of the club, a female senior, nodded and smiled faintly at Sakuno.

"And you are Ryuzaki-sensei's granddaughter, correct?" she asked, patting Sakuno's shoulder. The braided girl nodded, and the president smiled, taking out her camera. Before either of them could say anything, a bright light flashed. She had taken a picture.

Mitarashi showed it to the rest of the club, grinning. "They make a cute couple, ne?"

The rest oohed and aahed, agreeing and commenting on 'Mitarashi-san's amazing ability to take high quality pictures'. The young woman smiled, turning to Fuji.

"Fuji-kun, I think these two should go on outside." And then, to the rest of the club, "Meeting adjourned! Get off your asses and git!" A murmur of submission resounded, and the members dispersed.

"Mitarashi-san has a strange personality," Sakuno observed. Ryoma spared her a nod, pushed the door open and exited himself, leaving her inside. The boy glanced around a few times cautiously, looking both ways.

The hallways were now devoid of life, thank goodness. Maybe now he could get on with his life in peace. Well, semi-peace, anyway. Walking briskly, the boy descended the school steps noting, with slight disapproval, that is was later in the day than usual, and Karupin would be waiting.

Death floated along beside him.

"Mada mada dane," he said, to no one in particular.

_Brat,_ snapped Death, floating forward. _You'll see. I'll get you yet._

Somewhere along his walk home, Ryoma came to an agreeable conclusion. Tuesdays weren't as bad as Mondays.

* * *

(1) Yaku-doshi, meaning 'evil year'. In Japan, the youngest age of Yaku-doshi for a man is 25.

Thank you for the reviews, everyone:D It is a delight to feel appreciated. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.


	3. Ryuzaki Sakuno, Killing Machine

The Braids of Death

Chapter Three

**Ryuzaki Sakuno, Killing Machine**

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* * *

**

Death followed her until she got home. It was almost nightfall, and by the time they reached the squat yellow house in the middle of the street, most of the outside lights had switched on, illuminating the flat concrete and the black swishing trees. The Ryuzaki family had moved into the lemon-colored house a year ago, when Sakuno's father had gotten promoted. It was an artfully made dwelling, with a white roof and wide circular windows that _stared._ Death thought it was rather nice.

"Mom, I'm home!"

Despite the modern façade, the inside of the house was still vaguely traditional. There were still those sliding rice paper doors that just wouldn't _die_, as well as the long, low table positioned in the living room. An orange candle the side of a horse's head lay in the middle of the table. Its smoke tasted of grapefruit.

_Lovely house_, thought Death, sitting on top of the counter. Behind him, a tall, slim woman bustled around in the kitchen, tasting each of the different dishes that simmered inside various pots and pans. The smell filled the house and floated out the open windows, tempting street animals and passerby alike. The Grim Reaper, who didn't care much for food, watched as the girl walked up the stairs to her room, decking her shoes on the way.

He grinned and floated up behind her.

Sakuno entered her room, which still maintained its light yellow walls and tall white closets. It had been rather messy as of late, with school materials scattered around the floor along with magazines and a pair of red heels. The braided girl hummed as she dropped her bag in a corner, and undressed.

Feeling that he should respect her privacy, Death looked away. Not that it mattered, of course. Being Death, collector of souls, he had come across quite a few dead bodies that were deprived of covering fabric. The holocaust was one of them; being one of those large bulk jobs that Fate loved assigning him. But this, of course, was research. The girl was to be a mere tool in obtaining that insufferable brat's soul and getting this mission over with.

Sakuno passed through him in the hallway, startling the reaper. He jerked back, surprised, sending one arm into the bathroom by accident. _Stupid human children_, Death grumbled, following after the girl as she bounded down the stairs to eat dinner.

**.0o0.**

It was dinnertime, and the world had suddenly become one very small, very friendly place to be. Death was wedged in between Sakuno and her father and the udon which they both loved so much. The atmosphere was absolutely sickening, but in a nice way.

"How was your day, Sakuno?" the bespectacled man asked, fishing a piece of meat from one of the serving bowls.

"Anou, it was good. We had an English quiz and Urumi-sensei threatened to fail all of us if no one confessed to chalking 'Stoopid' in reverse on her seat. Horio-kun nearly wet his pants when she confronted him." She giggled and slurped a little more noodle soup. Death nodded approvingly. This Urumi character seemed like a very affable person. He'd check up on her one of these days.

"Er…how was your day, dear?"

The woman at the house speared yet another grilled shrimp and chewed it with determination. It was the only untouched dish on the table. She swallowed, downed a glass of water and cleared her throat. And then she filled them all in on what the next-door neighbor did for the whole day, not leaving out any details that would have made the experience a little more friendly. Mr. Ryuzaki opened his mouth to say something, before being shot with a menacing 'Don't even try' look, which, for some reason, increased Sakuno's digestive abilities.

"I'm going to do my homework now!" she announced with cheer nailed to the sides of her voice. The rhythmic thudding of feet on wood followed, as she descended the staircase yet again. Death sighed and got up himself, saluting the parents who were still engaged in a glarefest.

_Pleasure dining with you._

With one swish of the scythe, he flew upwards, passing through the ceiling, to Sakuno's room. It was a tedious job to use the stairs, honestly.

**.0o0.**

"Goodnight, Ryoma-kun."

The tennis ball lying on top of her desk didn't reply, merely glaring out at the world with its smug little eyes and arrogant expression. Death sniffed at it, then turned to watch as the girl curled up in her bed, pink pajamas and all. Her hair was undone, scattering over the pillows and the bunched up blankets. An array of stuffed toys watched, unmoving, as their mistress slept peacefully for yet another night.

_But not now_, said Death, running a carpal over the blade of his scythe. _Tonight, you are mine._

The night was stiff, all of a sudden, and the crickets froze in mid-chirp. A dog's barking stopped abruptly, as did the moving of the clouds and the activity of the other human beings in the house. Sakuno's breathing stilled, and Death nodded with approval. Putting the breaks on Time was something he did quite often, because the fourth dimension was a very bothersome thing when you were in charge of soul-collecting.

_And now, to enter. _

The scythe glittered in what little light was left to drift in through the window. The reaper lowered it to the surface of Sakuno's forehead, and slashed. A small, yellow light flickered for just a fraction of a second, as the girl's soul covering sealed itself once more. But he had gotten in. He'd done it.

There are two parts to a human's soul. The first part is the soul's outer covering, and the second part is the soul itself. The covering is what binds body to soul; what Death had to make an incision in to enter Sakuno's body. When a human being dies, the soul sheds its outer covering, but is still connected by a chain to its body, with the chain being the remains of the soul covering. Death's job is to disconnect the chain by way of his scythe, thus separating the body from the soul.

"Lovely. Just lovely."

His new voice was leaden and lifeless, yet feminine. It would take a while to get used to.

Sakuno's eyes flickered open. The warm, amber light that had always twinkled was gone. Instead, her eyes were a pair of black voids, blank and infinite. Death felt his new body, moving around, testing it. It felt odd, he decided, to _feel,_ to _touch. _He hadn't inhabited anyone's consciousness in ages, with the last one being an obscure king from the medieval era. Sakuno leaped off the bed with surprising agility, and _walked_ (from Death's point of view, not being able to float was torture) to her closet, ripping the white doors open with strength that simply did not befit a girl of her size and temperament.

"Er. That has to be fixed." Death, now Sakuno, turned away from the wreckage and whirled around, grinning. "Now…it's time for a change of wardrobe."

**.0o0.**

An hour and a half later, Death was finished. At first glance there had been NOTHING, absolutely _nothing_ black amongst the overly cheery array of annoying pastel colors that inhabited the girl's wardrobe. But then, after the first hour of digging around the mound of fabric, he had found something that might possibly work.

It was a skirt, up to the knee, and full of black lace. There was a little too much lace, actually, but Death wasn't about to be bothered by that. Next came the blouse, an ignored article of clothing that had been pushed all the way to the back. It had taken him twenty full minutes to find it, but it was worth it. Mostly silk, with a bit of velvet and sleeves that were puffed in a rather odd fashion. A black halloween cloak went over that, and everything was complete. Nearly.

Death marched to the shoe cabinet and pulled out a pair of dusty combat boots. Looking at Sakuno, he'd been surprised that _she'd_ own a something like this, but, well, there were surprises in every human being. A few minutes of tugging and rolling on the floor followed, and then the boots were in place. Now, for his scythe.

The girl waved her hand in the air and the weapon dropped out of nowhere, clattering to the floor noisily. Death—rather, Sakuno grimaced, picking up the scythe and swinging it experimentally. The black retinas gleamed sullenly, excitedly. Now the brat would _die._

"Echizen Ryoma, I've come for you."

**.0o0.**

Despite having studied humans for thousands of years, there were still a few things that Death did not quite grasp. For instance, the need to use the front door because there are simply no other alternatives, as well as the need to eat, and dress up properly, and sleep. And that no matter what, good parents never ever let their only daughter sneak out at night and go over to her classmate's house and kill him. Never ever.

"Sakuno! Breakfast!"

The morning call. He had heard it so many times during past reapings, and yet, when prompted to respond to it, could not. _I'm Death, _Death grumbled mentally, _I am the sealer of souls, bringer into the afterworld, the final dimension. I don't need to take orders from a plucky human being…_

"SAKUNO!" her mother called, "You'll be late for school!"

"School," said Death, "Is beyond me." He dressed Sakuno more or less correctly, save for the ribbon. It lay in a noose, neatly tied and ready to hang. A _pink_ noose, but then you can't always have your cake and eat it too. Death grabbed the school bag and walked down the stairs a bit stiffly. From there, everything attacked him…the _smells,_ the _texture, _the HUMANITY.

"You haven't braided your hair properly," observed Mrs. Ryuzaki, putting her hands on her hips and scrutinizing her daughter. The Grim Reaper squirmed under her gaze, feeling uncomfortable. True enough, the unruly auburn locks ran wild, sticking up in some places that it should not.

Mrs. Ryuzaki sighed the sigh that all mothers of teenagers sigh, which is a sigh of half-resignation. She took her daughter's hair in her hands and began braiding. Death froze, unsure of what to do. And then that's when it happened. Slowly, Sakuno's real self began to wake up. It was a small, groggy voice that occupied one corner of her consciousness, slightly confused and slightly scared.

'Hello?' it said sleepily, 'Who is this?'

_This is Death. I think you'd better go back to sleep._

Needless to say, that was the only answer that the real Sakuno got for the remainder of the day.

**.0o0.**

History was the easiest, wussiest subject ever. Death couldn't believe that HE, who had the entire memory of time stored in his skull, had to be put up to answering easy-as-pie questions about the trivial events that happened in trivial humans' trivial lives. It was insensible torture, and pitifully effortless. Sakuno's body looked around at the other students surrounding her. The loud-mouthed friend was gripping her forehead so tightly that it would break at any moment. The boy sitting behind her was chewing up his eraser, and eventually, the rest of his pencil. And Echizen…

Sakuno turned to the boy a few seats away from her. His paper was turned over, ready for submission. It was still a half hour before the bell would ring. Death narrowed the girl's eyes in annoyance. Who did that clingy little brat think he was? No one could defeat Death when it came to History…

"Don't tell me you're finished already."

It came off as a high-pitched, prissy remark that echoed throughout the quiet classroom. Ryoma and everyone else turned to look at the usually quiet girl with wide, surprised eyes.

"I am," he said, a question mark drawn clearly across his face.

Death smirked, and everyone else gasped. They had never seen _that_ expression on Ryuzaki before. She usually just smiled or got a little angry, or looked tired or shy or embarrassed…you get the picture. But she never smirked. Not really. Not ever.

"No one can defeat me, Death, Departer of Dreams, Gatekeeper of the Afterworld. My memory spans a thousand lifetimes—no, ten thousand lifetimes!" Sakuno stood and pointed a finger at the bewildered young man, standing up.

"If _you,_ lowly human, think that you have a chance of beating me, then you are horribly mistaken. No one defeats the Grim Reaper. No one! Especially not a life-loving, smart-aleck, arrogant brat like you, Echiz—"

**THWACK.**

Tomoka had done good, for once. Perhaps hitting her best friend with a trigonometry book wasn't the _safest_ idea, but it worked. Everyone watched, open-mouthed, as the girl collapsed to the floor in a heap. The class fell deathly silent, and Ryoma couldn't help but _stare. _The expression-devoid boy was seldom freaked out, but this was one of those rare, rare moments. Not only did Ryuzaki shoot off her mouth, but she called him names as well. And she called herself Death, which was weird…

"I think you should take her to the nurse's office, Echizen. After all, you're finished, aren't you," Said the teacher, a little uncertainly. "Mental breakdowns in the middle of History exams are not uncommon. But…" he trailed off, unsure of what to say next.

"Un."

Wordlessly, Ryoma stood from his chair and collected the unconscious girl from the floor. She was breathing, at least. But she was _weird._ The whole day had been weird, actually. He carried her rather awkwardly to the classroom door, having to kick it open. Walking down the hallway to the nurse's office, Ryoma was met with more than a few curious stares.

"What'd you do to her, Echizen?" queried an amused Kikumaru.

The boy, on the other hand, simply ignored his senpai.

He had started the day on a good note, and no way was he going to let some comment from the redhead ruin it. His bad luck had vanished quite suddenly, with his bruised arm healing too rapidly for the doctor to believe, and permission from the coach to be able to play tennis again. Fuji-senpai said something about it during practice, but he hadn't been paying attention right then…

**.0o0.**

Deep inside the recesses of Sakuno's temporarily unconscious mind, two voices conversed. One was Death, and the other was the real Sakuno. The reaper was apologetic but unperturbed, and the girl was…clueless.

_I think I'd better let you handle the daytime part,_ said Death rather ruefully. _I'll get the boy when it's nighttime. That way no one will suspect me…I mean, YOU._

'Huh?' said Sakuno. But, unlike last time, she didn't get an answer.

* * *

I hope this chapter cleared up any questions about the plot. As much as he is catlike, Kikumaru-kun isn't a cat. :D I had a lot of fun writing this one, and I hope you have just as much fun reading it. Yay! A Sakuno chapter. I hope I didn't make her OOC or anything. Disturbed? Confused? Leave a review:) and please ignore all grammar/spelling mistakes  



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